


Red On The Raven

by ASignificantWhisper, RigorMorton



Category: Gotham (TV), Valeyne - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bleeding From First Time Sex, Blow Jobs, Both Jerome And Bruce Being Little Shits, Boys Kissing, Bruce Being Antsy, Bruce Is Eighteen Years Old, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, First Time, Four Year Age Difference, Hand Jobs, Jerome Is Twenty Two, M/M, Male Slash, Mutual Masturbation, No Underage Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Admirer, Sexual Humor, Sneaking Around, This Chapter Will Make You Laugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5552120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASignificantWhisper/pseuds/ASignificantWhisper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RigorMorton/pseuds/RigorMorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce receives a mysterious letter from an unknown source - possibly from a secret admirer, asking him to come down to the old, rundown Josephine theatre during Gotham's annual Lighting Of The Christmas Tree ceremony downtown. A curious Bruce, accepts the invitation, unaware that he'll be reuniting with an old "friend" from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Valayne/Batjoke. I roleplayed this with the incredibly talented Asignificantwhisper. She was Jerome, and she wrote him perfectly. Spot on. Hope you guys enjoy :)

It was Christmas eve in Gotham city, and pretty much everyone in the city was already downtown awaiting the annual lighting of the Christmas tree, but not Bruce Wayne. 

Nope, the eighteen year old heir was busy primping, for a possible date. He wasn't really sure what to call it.

He had received a mysterious invitation from an unknown sender, inviting him to meet them at the old Josephine theatre downtown. 

He figured, why not? It was already downtown, so he could go straight to the ceremony afterwards, and maybe it was a secret admirer - that cute coffee barista that draws smiley faces on his cup, perhaps.

Bruce stood in front of his full size mirror, turning himself in all kinds of angles, making sure he looked his absolute best. It took him nearly an hour to pick out an outfit, but he finally settled on his Dolce and Gabana, grey, turtleneck and black slacks.

The slinky top, was very tight fitting, showing off pretty much every curve in his upper body. Bruce was not a very buff guy though. He had a small frame, but the handsome teen worked out regularly, and was looking pretty damn good. 

He shrugged and realized this was about as good as it was gonna get. He sprayed himself down with his Versace cologne and slipped into his coat, before heading down to meet Alfred in the car.

********************""

Jerome adjusted his silk purple tie for the dozenth time, the coil of pressure around his neck just enough. He rubs his cheeks down with the cinnamon scented aftershave, pushing his red mane into a slicked back path. His sideburns shaped perfect, he licks his fingertips, pushing them across his eyebrows, giving himself a devilish encouragement, when he spins around on red dress shoes, jutting out his thumbs at the mirror in shapes like pistols. Mhm, most definitely. 

Jerome pats down his black slacks to the gold pleated vest thrown over the plaid, tweed green jacket. He was looking spiffy, ready for Brucey. 

 

Jerome had filled out a little bit more in the four years he had been in hiding.how, Other than that, the now twenty two year old, looked pretty much the same - still had that baby face. 

He eyes the visible scar decorating his neck on the left side. What a tragic waste that night had been. And that was how it’d first went down. Bruce Wayne was a pathetic toddler to Jerome, nothing but a small cold. However, now, well, things aren’t what they were.

Jerome clicks his tongue in excitement, double checking every exit to bolt, his arms clasping behind his back, the lush black leather gloves pinching into his skin. He drums his clasped fingers against his back, walking the center stage, waiting. 

 

Bruce Wayne would reunite with him, and he didn’t even Know.

“Selective audience,” Jerome mutters apologetically to the absentee audience before him. 

Soon….

*************

Bruce sat in the car for a few minutes, looking up at the beautiful, but abandoned theater. He was nervous and hesitant. After all, even if it was the cute barista he'd been eying for a while, what was he going to say?

Bruce was kind of shy, and not very good with girls. He always got nervous and clammed up or got the yips when he was around one he liked. He really didn't want to blow it this time.

"Master Bruce, if you don't mind me saying…I don't like this one bit. That could be anybody in there waiting for you." Alfred shook his head, looking at the boy from his rearview mirror.

Bruce chuckled and placed his hand gently on Alfred's shoulder. "You worry too much Alfred. The GCPD station is right around the corner, not to mention all the cops that are at the ceremony right now. Everything will be fine."

"Alright, master Bruce.. You be careful."

Bruce just nodded his head and smiled, before exiting the car.

He walked up to the door and gave it a tug - not even sure if it would be unlocked, since the theatre was shut down years ago, but to his pleasant surprise, not only was the door unlocked, but when he stepped inside, the entire theatre was lit up and you'd never know that the place had been rundown.It looked great…beautiful even. Just like he remembered when he was a kid.

The boy slipped out of that big, heavy coat and sat it down on the concession stand counter, before walking toward the main entrance. He peeked his head through the curtain, glancing over the well lit stage, searching for any sign of life…so far none.

"Hello…" Bruce called out, receiving no reply.

He shrugged and made his way down the aisle, taking a seat in one of the red velvet seats in the center of the floor, leaning back and putting his feet up on the back of the empty seat in front of him, waiting for this mystery person to make themselves known.

**************

Jerome is quiet, steady with himself. He is ready, ready for this young man, weird as it sounded. The time has been too long overdue for a reunion for Gotham’s most prominent sides ;the good and the bad. 

Jerome hears that door echo, igniting his senses into overdrive. Exhaling, he slithers behind the silk red curtain, dropping into the orchestra pit when the kid speaks.

“Good of you to join me this evening, Mr. Wayne. Very careless to accept such a scarce invite from a stranger though, don’t you think? This is Gotham, afterall.”

Jerome keeps himself hidden, but his voice loud.

Bruce felt his stomach sink when he heard that familiar, gravely voice coming from the stage. He hadn't heard that voice in years, but he'd never forgotten it. How could he?

The last time he heard it, it was ringing in his right ear, while the cold, sharp blade of a knife pressed into the flesh of his neck. 

The boy should've been terrified by the sound of that voice - he should've wanted to run out of the theatre, arms flailing, screaming for Alfred, but instead Bruce got up from his seat, and ran up onto the stage, looking around, flustered and panicky.

 

Jerome laughs, a sound that rumbles from him in snorting breaths. He edges out of the orchestra pit and swivels behind another curtain. 

“Coming all this way… It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to, Brucey. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? Oh, that’s right. The poor dear perished. Mine too, y'know? But you lucked out. Mother’s are vile creatures.”

Jerome situates himself behind another curtain, peeking around to see the now stunning teenager. And the smell, my god the smell of his cologne. Jerome knew it all too well. Nothing lavish for Mr. Golden boy. He tuts appreciatively, not aware how he’s responding to the new physique, the backside view of his enemy.

“You can do better than being a mute, now Brucey. C'mon. Say somethin’ for me. Say something for your old pal.”

 

Bruce stood there on the stage - mouth hanging open - panting - watching the red head govatte all around him. "Jerome! What is this about? What do you want from me, and most importantly, why now? Years later you just randomly show up in Gotham and lure me down here. What gives?"

“Mhm. It’s always these types of boring questions, isn’t it? Be more original, Brucey. You’re insulting me when I went through all this trouble to get you here,” Jerome rasps out, finally making himself known. 

He swings up onto the stage, his feet clambering across the wood in a stomp. 

“Look at you. All grown up.”

Bruce huffed and rolled his eyes. For a moment there he had forgotten who he was dealing with. If he wanted to get anywhere with this guy, he'd have to play his game.

Bruce chuckled to himself for a moment when he realized he had a joke that the maniacal red head, might appreciate. "Okay, answer me this…. How does a brunette get to a man's heart?"

 

Jerome raises a leaked brow in sheer curiosity, leaning back against the wall opposite Bruce, crossing an ankle over the other.

“Go on, enlighten me then, little one.”

"Through his stomach. Now how does a blonde get to a man's heart?" Bruce asked - arms crossed, smirking at the former Maniac. He was actually a little surprised Jerome hadn't heard this one.

Jerome snorts, shrugging a shoulder as he crosses his arms, wanting the teen to deliver the punchline.

“Go on then. Tell me.”

"Through his dick." Bruce couldn't help but blush just a tad, saying that word out loud. He was a bit of a prude. "Okay, last one…Now how does a red head get to a man's heart?"

Jerome is intrigued now, the foul language from such a pristine youth. It causes him to feel this pang at his heart in a way he hasn’t felt in quite some time, if ever. 

“How do they, Bruce?”

Bruce grinned wide and leaned in closer raising his forearm up, while making a squeezing motion with his hand, as if he was grabbing something out of Jerome's chest. "Through his ribcage." 

The redhead has to shake his head, tilting it sideways as he maneuvers closer to the boy. 

“Ha. Ha. Ha, Brucey, my my.”

Bruce laughed, feeling pleased with himself, that he'd made the former Maniac laugh, but he still wanted to know why he had been brought here. He thought maybe if he just kept up a conversation with the jokester, he'd find out. 

"I figured you'd like that one." Bruce chuckled. "Ya know….you look pretty much exactly how I remember. You look good….especially for a dead guy. Speaking of…..how the hell are you alive?"

Jerome thumbs a motion at his own chest, eating up the younger teen’s words like the maniac he is. He shrugs a shoulder, eyeing the kid.

“Now what do I get if I answer any of your questions, hmm?”

Bruce furrowed his brows and chuckled nervously. "I'm not sure, I follow… if I didn't know any better…. I'd say you were flirting with me, but that can't be right." Bruce felt his cheeks flush with red, when he realized how stupid it was to say that out loud. Surely the red head was not crushing on him, and now Bruce was probably going to be laughed out of the theatre.

“Me? Flirt with you? I get you all the way out here on your own and you assume I’m… hitting on you?”

Jerome tsks several times, moving towards the boy with an outstretched hand, his fingers pushing through the boys neatly kept hair to mess it up into jet black tuffs.

“So grown up.”

Bruce puts his head down - his cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was when he realized he was feeling a little disappointed. Not only that, but he also suddenly realized that he may have felt surprised and confused when be realized it wasn't the cute barista that had lured him down here, but one thing he didn't feel, was disappointment.

He swallowed hard, and flashed a nervous smile at the handsome red head, trying to play off his epic fail.

"In my defense, your letter was very secret admirerish, and what would you think if it was the other way around?

“I would spring towards the challenge. I love surprises, mhm. They’re so…. feverish? Ya know, Brucey?”

Jerome finds himself getting dangerously closer, an odd rush burning at the pit of his stomach. What is he doing? This wasn’t the initial plan, was it? He’s speaking before he can stop himself. 

“I live for what’s unexpected.”

 

Bruce let out a sigh and shook his head, chuckling as he realized he was no match for the sly red head. "Okay, well you got me here." The teen shrugged. "We've got a whole empty theatre to ourselves. Kinda cool actually. So are we gonna end up playing an epic game of hide and seek, or perhaps you had a magic show planned?"

 

“You’re damn right I do, dearest young Bruce Wayne. So, I’m assuming you’re ready to hear the reason I brought you here?”

Jerome says these words without a second thought, still wanting to make the teen work for his reasoning as to why. Seeing the youthful Wayne squirm for him was Jerome’s new favorite aesthetic.

"Yes!" Bruce shouted in frustration, throwing his hands up and letting them fall back down at his sides. "Please tell me. Pretty, pretty, pretty please, tell me!" Bruce dropped to his knees, deliberately being over dramatic, and playful, hoping that amusing the red haired jokester might help him get an answer. "I'm down on my knees, pretty, pretty, please!" 

 

Jerome full on levels out now, about to lose his cool as the kid falls to his knees in front of him, at his complete mercy. Does he not know what Jerome can do to him? Is he not petrified of death? It’s intriguing enough to make Jerome consider telling him the truth, or… what he knew of it, granted.

“You’re here because I wanted to get you alone. It’s Christmas, Bruce Wayne, don’t you know? A lot of… traditions and no one to celebrate them with.”

Bruce picked himself up off the floor, feeling like the red head may be becoming annoyed with his shenanigans. He cleared his throat and brushed himself off.

"Okay…well, you went through all this trouble to get me down here, here i am. So tell me, what's your favorite Christmas tradition?"

Jerome isn’t really sure of the things that are coming over him before they actually get here, but they do, leaving him winded. He’s looking up, at that dangled tinsel shrouded around them both, taunting. 

Jerome lifts his gaze, teetering it towards the younger man.

“I’d say this is a start, wouldn’t you? Unless you… object?"

Bruce gave Jerome a strange look, wondering what the mischievous red head was talking about. His eyes averted up to the beam above them, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, taking a moment to ponder before realizing the green, leaf like thing, dangling above, was in fact mistletoe. 

The boy's eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open when he realized what the red head was proposing. Considering the theatre had been closed for several years now, it was obvious that Jerome was the one that hung that there. Was this his plan all along?

Bruce felt as if butterflies had filled his stomach to the brim. His nerves taking over his senses. It's not as if, Bruce had never kissed anyone before, but he had never kissed A BOY, much less a boy that was notorious for being one of Gotham's most dangerous criminals, and Jerome wasn't just any criminal. He was a murderer - a ruthless and cunning one at that. The young heir had every reason to be nervous, although he wasn't really afraid of Jerome.

It was pretty obvious, the former Maniac, didn't bring him here to kill him. Not only did he not have a reason to kill him, but he probably would've done it already, and he could've done it anywhere, instead of putting on this big charade.

Bruce looked back at Jerome, taking notice of how handsome the red head was. He always kinda thought Jerome was handsome, but he was so young last time he'd seen him, that he was barely noticing girls, much less other boys.

Bruce wasn't opposed to sharing a kiss with dangerous red head. It was kind of exciting actually. Jerome was the ultimate bad boy. Despite him being kind of enthusiastic about it, he was still so nervous. He wasn't going to tell Jerome no, but he was still scared to say yes. He just kind of stood there…frozen.

 

It was cute, obviously, the way the boy was so nervous. If Jerome hadn’t grown up all these years and experienced a bit more than he was aware possible for himself, this might very well be his first kiss. He finds himself wondering if that’s what this is for the boy? 

He feels a twist unaware, parts unknown at his gut at the thought of anyone pawing Bruce Wayne. This was… odd. Too odd. 

So before Jerome can think on it, he’s shaking his head and pinching the end of his gloves decorating his right hand, ripping the article off, leaving him to wiggle his long digits.

Not a moment too soon after, Jerome is cupping the back of the boy’s head, tugging him closer. “Well, allow me.” And just like this, like that, Jerome is bringing his lips to the boy’s in a chaste, surprisingly sweet kiss.

Bruce's eyes still remained open as Jerome's lips pressed into his. He was still in disbelief, of this entire scenario, but he soon closed them when he realized that the red head's lips were full, and so soft, like a girl's, and Bruce could taste a hint of mint from the older man's lip balm. He also smelled good - really good - fresh, like a cool and crisp scented soap. 

Bruce loosened up and placed his hands on Jerome's hips, before opening his mouth just a tad.

Jerome has to fight every raw instinct to lose control and dominate the kid right here. That won’t help either one of them. But as the younger teen opens his mouth Jerome is inclined to poke out his tongue, pushing those plump lips apart, tasting Bruce.

Jerome's tongue intrusion into Bruce's mouth was forceful and rough, causing the teen to let out a soft moan. He wasn't used to that. He had been the aggressor, with the girls he had kissed prior ( which weren't very many), and the kisses had always been soft and gentle. 

Bruce liked it - being manhandled for once - not being treated like he was this delicate thing that was going to break. 

He pushed his tongue out hard, meeting with Jerome's - clenching his fingers roughly into the red head's waist - moaning softly as he felt the older boy's warm tongue wash over his. So far….best kiss he'd ever had.

Jerome notices the quick cooperation with the man, which spurs him on like never before. Something washes over him, settling with its warmth at the pit of his stomach.

When the boy clenches his waist, Jerome feels the vibrations ignite his skin with a burn that soaked through his skin like biting acid. Only, Jerome welcomes this. For the first time in his life he welcomes an emotion foreign to him, but as seconds pass, his need grows stronger, outweighing all else, so he’s pushing away, biting back a shyness at his vulnerability. He reaches up and snatches the mistletoe, eyeing it rather oddly.

“Hmm. That was strangely pleasant."

Bruce giggled, feeling a little awkward now. He had just kissed a boy…well technically a man, even though Jerome didn't look much older than him. It's so easy when you're still in the moment - preoccupied with each other's tongues, but once you break apart and are just left standing there, looking at each other, left with the realization of what you just did, then it was a bit more difficult.

He cleared his throat and cracked a smile - running his hand over the back of his head. "Um….yeah, it was. I….I…" Poor Bruce had come down with a case of the yips. 

Jerome made him nervous - more nervous than any of the girls he'd been around. Then again, someone like Jerome, was a lot more intimidating than innocent girls, his own age.

He wondered what now? Would Jerome stay in Gotham for a bit? Would he see him again? How far would this go?

“Are you into….?” Jerome didn’t quite know how to word his question, let alone why he is asking it, but he can’t stop himself. He shuffles his other glove off, reaching out to brush his fingers through the dark hair of the young man before him. 

“I didn’t plan this… If you’re ever so curious to know.”

Bruce, smiled at the jokester's playful gesture, but couldn't help but wonder what exactly was on his mind. What was Jerome going to ask him, that would cause someone like him to be afraid? Jerome wasn't exactly a shy guy, but Bruce was, well, at least shy enough to hesitate before pushing the matter further.

Bruce pressed his lips together nervously - still tasting Jerome's lip balm on them, and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet - his hands in his pockets.

"What were you going to ask me?" Bruce asked, biting his lip.

 

Jerome falls silent, unsure himself what he wanted to ask. What was it? Why is he so distracted all of a sudden? Jerome clears his throat once more and looks slack jawed at the kid before he’s nipping forward and bringing him into another kiss, promptly swallowing his question.

 

Before he even knew what was happening, Bruce was tasting mint lip balm once again. He couldn't help but smile through the kiss, despite his lips being occupied.

He slipped his arms all the way around Jerome's waist - locking his fingers together at the middle of the red head's back, pulling him in closer - the two men, chest to chest.

On the list of things, Bruce thought he'd never do, making out with Gotham's most wanted and notorious criminal, would have been right at the top of the list.

In spite of it being something he never saw himself doing, he was sure enjoying it. The Maniac, knew how to kiss, no doubt about that, leaving the younger, less experienced man feeling self conscious about his own kissing skills.

Jerome doesn’t know quite what’s happening to him, coming over him. He is losing it, losing himself in the proximity of the young Bruce Wayne. All young and muscular in the right spots. It has Jerome coaxing their bodies into a spin until he’s got Bruce smashed against the wall he stood by moments beforehand.

He lifts a hand to the back of the jet black hair, tugging until the young man’s neck was bared for him to see. He dips his head without another ponder, licking at the cologne tainted skin, a moan pushing its way through the back of his throat, vibrating past his lips as he moves a pathway up until he’s nipping at the youth’s jugular.

Bruce tilted his head to the side - resting it against the wall behind him, giving Jerome's soft lips better access. 

He moaned loudly, raking his fingers through the older boy's soft red locks - eyes fluttering shut, as those full lips ghosted over his sensitive flesh. 

The inexperienced teen, had never had his neck kissed or sucked on before. His prior makeout sessions were never very long. Alfred was overprotective, and Bruce didn't have a lot of time alone with any of his love interests, much to his chagrin. 

As a matter of fact, good ole Alfred was probably contemplating getting out of the car to check on him. Uh oh…

The two frisky boy's were just getting started, and Bruce was nowhere near ready to go back home, but his overly concerned guardian, walking in on him and Jerome Valeska, making out, was about the worst thing young Bruce could imagine happening. 

Bruce, let out a long moan, taking the time to enjoy a few more love bites from the older red head, before he had to cut things short.

"Jerome..." Bruce swallowed hard, feeling a little embarrassed, about his Butler's nosey and protective ways, especially because Bruce was eighteen now, and should be allowed more freedom. "Alfred drove me here. He's waiting in the car, and I have this awful feeling he won't be able to resist coming in for a peek."

Jerome already has a path mapped out in his head. Where to mark this boy’s flesh up. Where all of Gotham could see it, or where Bruce would always think of him when he had no clothing on, only alone with the marks and the feeling of Jerome’s mouth leaving them indented into his flesh. 

The imagine in Jerome’s head of a flushed, nude Bruce Wayne is catching him off his own guard. He hadn’t anticipated this. For a supposed enemy, someone he rarely registered all those years ago in hindsight, let alone now in a romantic and sexual nature. Hell, Jerome only thought women got him going. He wasn’t too much into labels, just feeling the animalistic nature despite the gender, he guesses himself to be, especially now with the growing fondness between his legs, in his slacks. 

He’s both equal parts annoyed and grateful when the young teen is breaking him from this reverie of unnerving thoughts. 

He groans, pulling his mouth off Bruce with a pop. “I can slit his throat? Tie him up? Then we’re free to continue…."

"Oh, boy…" Bruce was having so much fun with the former Maniac, he almost forgot there for a second, exactly who he was dealing with. "Um, I was thinking something more along the lines of, meeting up at another time…." Bruce put his finger to his chin, and pondered for a moment. "New Years eve! Alfred is going downtown for the annual New Years eve party. He goes every year. He'll be gone for hours." Bruce looked around the room and patted around his pockets. "Blimey…I don't have a pen, but Wayne manor isn't super hard to find…that is if you don't have anything more exciting to do for New Years…."

Jerome thinks this offer over, his lips pursing in a pout at the meaning of it. Whilst being in the Wayne manor - being with Bruce, there is a major downside. He huffs, puffing out his chest in irritation, an exasperated breath combing across his lips.

“If I wait that long then you know you’ll have to make it worth my while, Bruce. I hope you know that?”

Bruce may be pretty innocent, but he wasn't completely naive. He figured if the two of them would be alone in his mansion late at night, they probably weren't going to just watch chick flicks, giggle about boys, and braid each other's hair, but something about hearing Jerome say it out loud, makes it sound so final.

He has a split second to make a decision. It's not like once he says yes, he can just go back on it…not with a reckless hot head like Jerome. Bruce was indeed, flirting with danger…. A concept that was as arousing as it was terrifying. 

Bruce had been such a goodie two shoes his whole life. He never even really had a rebellious phase. Never smoked, did drugs, or even got drunk, although he was certain Alfred would prefer all three of those things, over him fornicating with the likes of Jerome Valeska. Kinda made it all the more exciting.

He cleared his throat and felt a breath hitch in his throat. "Yes…. I know." Bruce pressed his lips together, like he always does when he's nervous, and looked down at his feet. 

 

Jerome sighs at the lack of proper answer. He wasn’t within his elements neither, but for hell’s sake this boy couldn’t be this timid. It was too much for him, anyways. 

Jerome reaches out to swipe a thumb across Bruce’s bottom lip, edging it up until it’s wet with a little saliva.

“I can’t see you sooner? Are you… afraid of me?” 

Jerome clucks with pleasure, eyes bemused with a sudden rush of power.

Bruce was realizing, that patience was not one of Jerome's virtues, although it was fair to say that Bruce didn't really want to wait that long either. He had a habit of playing it safe. Maybe it was time to be a little riskier.

"Um, well….how about tonight, sometime after midnight? I suppose I could sneak you in." The teen thought about it for a moment, and realized how much hotter that makes it - sneaking someone into his room in the night while his guardian slept only feet away.

It was risky, but if Alfred had a nightcap before bed, which he usually did, then Bruce was confident he could pull it off.

Jerome licks his lips in delight, a nod coming from him. “Ah, that’s much more manageable. Will you wait up for me? Or do I have to rouse you awake?”

Jerome is in awe, impressed at the ballsy moves this kid was agreeing to. Young Bruce Wayne was being naughty, indeed. It has him stepping back before he tries to take him right here on the stage.

Bruce ran his hand over the back of his head once more, still feeling a bit nervous about it, but not nervous enough to back out.

"I'll wait up. You can throw pebbles at my window, like in the movies." The teen chuckled. He was just as cute as they come. He could probably make even the most hardened criminal want to boop his nose. "I'll leave my lamp on so you'll know which room is mine."  
Bruce smiled nervously up at the older red head. So doe eyed and adorably clueless.

“Mhm, so sneaky and baaaad.” Jerome draws the word out, clearly pleased with the turn of events. He nods and situates himself, not giving the boy another kiss or touch, needing for him to crave it within the next few hours that they’re apart. 

Stepping back, Jerome inclines his head. “Be careful and get home safe, Brucey. Never know which monsters are lurking out there in the dark.”

Jerome gives a manical smirk, vanishing behind the curtain - eager, all too eager for the night to tread along to their next meeting.

Bruce stood there for a moment, after the red head had disappeared, trying to wrap his head around what just took place. Did he really just make out with Jerome Valeska? Did he really just agree to sneak him into his room, while Alfred was home?

He blinked a few times, his mouth hung open just a little, as the harsh reality finally crept its way in. What the fuck just happened?


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce sat at the table across from his guardian, pushing his food around the plate with his fork. He was too nervous to eat. He'd had butterflies in his stomach for hours now, and they were fluttering away, leaving zero room for food.

He hadn't eaten anything at the Lighting of the tree ceremony either and Alfred had definitely noticed. How could he not with the spread they put on. Desserts as far as the eye could see. It was highly suspicious that Bruce wouldn't even touch the sweets. Bruce never turned down a sweet, even if he was uncomfortably full.

"Master Wayne…." Alfred started, leaning in further on his elbows. "Are you feeling alright? You haven't had a bite since lunch. I thought things went well with….oh what's her name again? The cute little blonde from the coffee place."

Bruce looked up from his plate, when he heard his butler repeat back his lie. "Um…it did. I'm just….trying to stay in shape. I'm a man now, and….can't eat the same way I used to, ya know….metabolism slows down as you get older." The teen looked up at Alfred with a fake, nervous smile.

Alfred furrowed his brows, not buying a word of it, but what could he do? "Hmm….well, it's getting late. I'm going to have a nightcap and get ready for bed. If you get hungry at all there's plenty of leftovers." The older man smiled and pat the boy on the shoulder before walking up the stairs to his room.

Bruce looked up at the clock hanging over the mantle of the dining room - a feeling of panic washing over him when he realized it was a quarter till midnight.

*************

Jerome had tried on several different outfits. You’d think he wouldn’t care, would worry more over other things ; such as getting caught, getting shot at. He hasn’t the patience for it. Not tonight, not with his nerves placating him entirely to the brim. He always has to look his best for any presentation, and over the years of newly admitted adulthood, Jerome finds himself still looking quite the same, despite filling out in ways he was supposed to, dropping it in others. 

That red curl seemed to follow him into his twenties, not cooperating tonight. He sighs, letting it be, spritzing on his cinnamon glaze cologne. Something that reminded him of a calm place he can check into to keep himself guarded, in check, calculated. He isn’t about to let his youth become his downfall again. No, some chump won’t stab him in the throat this time.

Jerome palms the old scar, snarling at its ugly appearance. Galavan seemed to have taken a page from mother Valeska’s handbook : leave your distinguishing marks to mar Jerome’s skin. Hmm, bet the cold hearted whore was on her knees in front of good ol’ Theo in hell. Or maybe Jerome’s dad. He snorts softly before his gaze two seconds too long at himself, causes a ghostly air of anger to penetrate his mood. 

Bruce Wayne would see him. This. He would laugh at how Jerome got what he deserved, a half bit criminal with a temper tantrum and bloodlust, show stardom craver. Probably was setting him up now. Why would anyone be capable of seeing past the real Jerome? Did he always have to put on a show like he first did for Jim Gordon when they met, to gain any sort of emotion his way? He lives for the fear, yes, but after his kiss with Bruce, his tryst with those women since his resurrection, Jerome finds himself craving something other than the spotlight, instilling fear in the residents of Gotham. 

It’s too foreign to even continue pondering. Jerome wasn’t supposed to back pedal into what he once was long before he killed his mother. He instead shifts his focus back into what the youth will think of him, these scars. 

Were they not going to.. consummate this tonight? Make love? Fuck? No, Jerome can’t care about these emotions. He can’t feel them. He instead loads his pistol for a backup escape, adjusts his black silk tie and crisp white button down. His jeans are faded, dark, hanging to his hips with a leather belt to match. His coat is pea, dark black, wrapping around his body and coursed over his leather gloves. His dress shoes are the only same thing to remain in his ensemble. Red. Twisting a dark green scarf around his neck, pulling on a beret cap to shield himself from the cold, Jerome is ready. 

Gripping the two items he would need for this night if it goes according to plan, Jerome makes his guided way to the Wayne manor. 

***********

Bruce lie on his bed, staring up at the ceiling - his stomach still fluttering about, making him squirm just a bit - his toes wiggling around uncontrollably.

Moments earlier he was having the darndest time, deciding what to wear for his gentleman caller. He looked awfully dashing in the outfit he was wearing when they parted ways, but he couldn't help but think maybe just his boxers were better. After all, Jerome was coming to him, late at night. He would normally be just in his underwear in his own room, this time of night. Then again, he could see Jerome being insulted that he didn't dress up for him. He figured better safe than sorry. He ended up leaving his clothes on, minus his shoes, and gave himself another quick spritz of cologne, before brushing his teeth for the third time, since he got back home.

Now he just had to sit by - trying his best to relax, and wait. Waiting was the hardest part. He'd probably feel less nervous once Jerome actually got there, as opposed to the anticipation of his arrival. The jokester would probably say or do something funny, making the teen loosen up, and feel at ease, just like he did at the theatre.

***************

Jerome walked the long duration, eventually needing to hail a cab and not he caught. Of course, he had to near fatally injure the driver, jar his memory a little. Couldn’t have the old fart placing Jerome. He disposes of the cab in a pathed area, quickly approaching the lush Wayne manor. Figures. After seeing the modern upscale of what he was able to hold up in during his stint with Galavan, Jerome always grew to appreciate the lavish life. A pace he set for himself to live. This less than modern mansion has him in awe as he rounds the area, picking up pebbles from the drive into a scoop.

True to his word, Brucey left the lamp on, the gold light illuminating Jerome’s sights. He sets his eyes to the glass, then aims a pebble, watching as he’s successful to grab the almost immediate attention.

Bruce jumped and felt his stomach jump into his chest when he heard a clanging sound outside his window, almost forgetting he had told the older boy how to let him know he'd arrived.

He sat up quickly, jumping off the bed and running to fling open his bedroom door. He peeked out into the hall to make double sure, his guardian was nowhere in sight.

As he crept down the hall, he sighed in relief when he heard the faint sounds of snoring coming from Alfred's room. The butler was sawing wood - dead to the world, and if the boy was lucky, he'd stay that way.

Bruce quickly ran down the stairs, grabbing the knob on the door - hesitating for just a moment to catch his breath before slowly opening it, and peering out into the cold darkness outside.

Feeling pleased and announced, Jerome checks his breath to his smell, twisting the top of his cap as he slithers along the wall, calling out into the cool night air before springing in front of the delicious smelling teen. “TADA!”

Bruce grabbed his chest and jumped back a bit when the ginger haired jokester jumped out of the dark startling him - almost causing him to fall back, flat on his ass. "Damn it, Jerome. You tryin to kill me." The teen chuckled. He knew Jerome would make him laugh, he just wasn't expecting it in the first five seconds of their rendezvous.

He had to give Jerome credit though…it was a great icebreaker. A guy like Jerome would be great at keeping things from feeling super awkward and weird, well……at least less awkward and weird, that is.

He took a moment to give the dashing red head the updown - swallowing hard, taking notice of how handsome the older boy really was.

Bruce caught himself staring and the cold gust of wind that blew through the front door, snapped him back to reality. "You better get in here." The teen motioned for Jerome to come inside.

Jerome is amused, clicking his tongue and rocking back onto his heels, arms clasped behind his back to refrain animalistic instincts. “Kill you? Brucey… I’ve had many opportunities. Besides, killing you on your doorstep? Too blasé for my tastes.” 

At the biting cold air, Jerome steps inside upon direction, sliding his cap off and tucking it within his large coat pocket-over the select ‘items’ he brought for them. He’s immediately whistling lightly through his milky white teeth, gauging his lavish surroundings.

“Nice place here, Wayne. Too bad Alfred is home or we could… explore every inch of it together.

Bruce couldn't help but snicker when he heard Jerome say that. After all the boy had just recently turned eighteen, and ninety percent of the time, his mind was in the gutter, so this part of him, so badly wanted to say…"I got something you can explore every inch of". The thought made him laugh, but he'd never say it out loud, not even if Jerome were a girl.

Bruce pretty much, had the same mind set as any other eighteen year old boy, but he had the mannerisms of a true gentleman.

"Um.." The teen cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face. "Well, you'll get to see some more of it, during the journey to my room." Bruce let out a nervous chuckle. Poor thing was trying too hard. Jerome would either find this annoying or adorable. "Alfred is sleeping pretty good though, so if you want a snack or a drink before we go up there…" 

Jerome is smirking devilishly now, thoroughly pleased with the entire turn of events. Albeit the shy mannerisms in the younger teen. 

He strokes a gloved finger down the wood trim to a painting he sees. He tilts his head as he turns to Bruce, deciding to go for it and make him squirm entirely. 

“I’ll skip the snack, cause’ that’s not what I’m hungry for. Are you sure Alfred is out? I’ll be pretty loud when I’m inside you, Brucey."

Bruce's eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. Did Jerome really just say that? Apparently, Jerome was not the coy type.

The teen had already had a pretty good sense of what would take place tonight, but something about hearing it spoken aloud made it so much more intimidating. The butterflies he had in his stomach earlier, had now multiplied, now giving him the sensation of being punched in the stomach.

"Um….he sleeps pretty good." The boy said sheepishly, gulping loudly. "I'll put on music and….it should be fine. Bruce bit his lip and stared off into space for a moment, before realizing they'd better get upstairs behind a locked door, in case Alfred did wake up. 

"We better get upstairs." He grabbed the older red head by the hand and headed for the stairs, putting his finger over his lips to remind Jerome to be extra quiet. The two boys tip toed up the large staircase, both able to hear Alfred's snoring all the way down the hall - a good sign for sure.

Bruce grabbed his door knob, and slowly pushed the door to his room open, tip toeing inside pulling the older boy behind him, past the threshold, before closing the door behind them - squinting his eyes shut, at the click of the latch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is in the next chapter, and boy is it good. Stay tuned ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the smut, and I ain't kiddin when I say smut ;)

Jerome is occupied at the new surroundings, his lips pursing as he’s shuffled into the boy’s room. He looks around the semi large, lavish place. His interests peaked giving him a high that strikes his adrenaline.

Here. After all these years he’s in Bruce Wayne’s room. For them to be vulnerable with each other in the most intimate of ways. Jerome shuffles out from his scarf, his coat, shoes and gloves, moving around the room to touch his fingers along each and every thing in sight.

“My. Look at this all. Such a fancy boy, aren’t you, my Brucey?” 

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling sharply - his back pressed against his bedroom door, trying his best to try and relax, but that was a lot easier said than done.

The truth was, the thought of losing his virginity was frightening enough - being naked and vulnerable in front of them for the first time - questioning your skills - unable to fully enjoy it because you can't help but wonder if you're doing it right, but losing his virginity to another guy….that was terrifying. 

Bruce was now kicking himself for not sneaking a few shots from Alfred's bottle he had stashed in the freezer - that he didn't know the boy knew about, prior to Jerome's arrival. He'd probably be a lot more relaxed right now.

Jerome notices in the corner, however, something that catches his eye. A record player. He strides to it on dress socked feet, running his fingers over the needle. 

“What do you have to put in this thing?”

"Yeah, that was my dad's. He was very old school and taught me to appreciate the sound of vinyl." Bruce pointed to a box sitting on the desk, behind the record player. "See that, there. That's my record collection. Got all kinds of cool records. Some collectables."

Jerome nods in approval, reaching over to shift through the impressive collection. When his eyes fall on one album in particular, he feels his blood heat up. 

Bouncing back and forth on his heels, Jerome smirks and picks up the perfect option, setting the needle down and humming as the song filters out softly into the room. He offers a hand to Bruce as soon as George’s voice graces his ears with the lyrics.

“Come here, Brucey.”

A wide smile crosses Bruce's face when he heard the familiar melody. "My Sweet Lord….this song is the reason, George is my favorite Beatle. Hauntingly beautiful. As well as While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Those two songs alone, make him the greatest." He laughs, before he enthusiastically takes the older boy's hand.

“We have similar tastes then. I owned one of these… or rather nicked it off the whore who raised me.” Jerome gives another sideways glance at the records, a little jealously fleeting through him.

He tugs the boy into his chest, fingers rubbing the nape of Bruce’s neck, his lips dangerously close. 

“You know I never intended to bed you. But just so you know, I’ve never been with a man before either. I only intended on kissing you, slitting…” Jerome breaks briefly to pat Bruce’s jugular before continuing on. “slitting your throat and maybe kissing you some more. But this…

Bruce felt a cold shiver go down his entire body at the older boy's chilling words. He'd like to believe that Jerome was only kidding, but deep down he knew it was probably true.

This revelation, made the boy wonder how he was even still alive. Was it the joke? He impressed the funny man with his wit? No, probably not. Was it the kiss - was he that great of a kisser that a man intent on killing him, would suddenly spare his life? Highly unlikely. Was it because he talked to Jerome like a normal human being, and wasn't trembling just at the sight of him? It was the most likely choice.

Jerome probably would have a certain respect for someone that didn't turn into a blubbering mess, when at the ginger prince's mercy. However, Bruce would probably never know. He may not be a blubbering mess, but he didn't have quite enough balls to ask.

This whole situation had the teen questioning his ethics. Here he was in his room with possibly the most dangerous criminal Gotham has ever seen, and he invited him here. Not only that, but instead of running out of the room, screaming bloody murder for Alfred, he stayed still….feeling terrified, but also a little excited. 

Bruce never gets to do anything thrilling or adventurous, although he realized he was probably in a little over his head, but for some reason, he just knew he'd come out of this alive. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but there was only one way to find out.

Bruce tilted his head and leaned in just a tad further, placing his lips on the older boy's. He breaths in deep, taking in the red head's cinnamon scent, before exhaling sharply, feeling his own breath bounce off Jerome's upper lip.

Jerome is overtaken by the boy’s boldness once again. He responds automatically, threading his freckled fingers into the youth’s hair, edging them back towards Bruce’s bed. When Bruce’s knees collide with the back of the bed, Jerome tugs him back harshly by his hair, ripping their mouths off one another enough to leave Jerome holding onto Bruce with his bottom lip between Jerome’s teeth, his hand now cupping the man’s neck. 

He growls a feral sound in his chest, his proximity melting against Bruce’s as he descends to lick a path from Bruce’s neck to his Adam’s apple, sucking on the small raise. His breath is hot when he breaks apart to whisper the words. 

“I want you, Bruce. Do you want me too?”

Bruce had never been more turned on in his life. Between being manhandled by the older boy, the feel of his warm tongue flickering down his neck, and the low gravely sound of Jerome's growl, the kid didn't stand a chance, and he felt his cock twitch at the sound of the red head's words.

The teen squeezed the back of Jerome's neck, panting and nodding his head. "Yes…oh God, yes." And he meant it, he really did. He knew the former Maniac would do a number on him, and he was ready and willing.

It wasn't quite as scary, once his cock started to come to life - his arousal taking over his senses, making him appreciate the situation more, and fear it less. 

With their positions so closely knit together it’s not hard (pun intended) for Jerome to feel Bruce’s arousal pressing into his own. The sensation was one that shot straight into his groin, pooling at his belly. 

He backs his hand and knuckle drags across Bruce’s neck, pushing his hand down the back of the fabric to feel the skin. Too many clothes on them both now. Jerome wants to drag this out, he really does, but the pesky Pennyworth could attach himself to the situation at any given moment. So for tonight, this has to be quick. Jerome rears back, dropping his other hand to the growing bulge in the younger man’s pants. 

“Bruce have you ever masturbated before?”

 

Bruce shudders and a soft moan escapes his lips when the older boy's hand touches his already tingling groin. Nobody had ever touched him there, other than himself of course, and he just now came to realize how much better a touch like that felt, coming from someone else's hand.

He felt himself blush a bit at Jerome's personal question - the teens prudence showing again. He looked up at the red head, gulping and nodding his head. "Um..yeah…"

Jerome just nods with a soft sigh, his hand giving Bruce another tight squeeze. His words are simple. He shifts back a little. 

“Then show me. Take off your clothes and show me how you make yourself cum."

Bruce gives Jerome a bewildered look, not feeling positive he heard the older boy correctly. "What? You…want me to…" Bruce averted his eyes down to his crotch - his mouth gaped open, and looked back up at Jerome. "I…I've never done that….with somebody watching…I…." Bruce was speechless. Surely he was joking.

Jerome sighs, two halves of emotions rising on the tide inside him. Why did this man have to be so timid? On the other hand, why did Bruce look so cute doing it?

Jerome shakes his head and runs a hand through his red hair, blowing out a breath he loosens his tie, then strips himself first of the white shirt, leaving his chest bare, his scar on his neck there and loud. He runs a palm down his own chest, drumming his fingers at the top of the patch of red hair-nestled just above his low hanging slacks. 

“Sure you can. I’ll do it too. I want to watch you… /fuck/ yourself when you look at me. I want to know that I’m the reason your cock is hard. And then you know what I’m gonna do to you Bruce?”

Jerome steps to touch, mashing his bare chest against the boy’s, leaning until their breaths are mingling, their noses touching. 

“I’m going to lay you down in your bed and take you from behind until you’re coming all over the sheets.”

 

Bruce took another gulp and immediately started shuffling out of his tight shirt - struggling just a bit from its tight cling around his upper arms, but successfully getting it over his head and onto the floor. He sighed, feeling the warmth of Jerome's bare stomach pressed against his.

The nervous boy, shakily reached down to the button on his pants - kind of wishing he'd just answered the door in his boxers, and slipped the button through the loop, before sliding his zipper down slowly, letting out a small sigh of relief when some of the pressure weighing down on his aching erection was released.

The boy then started tugging at his own pants, lifting his hips up to slide them down to his ankles, kicking his way out of them, leaving him only in his boxers - pitching a tent that was now scraping at Jerome's navel.

The poor thing was so tense he thought his head would explode. Bruce had always been a little shy, especially around someone he found attractive, so the thought of touching himself while Jerome watched, was a frightening thought, but he wanted to impress the older boy, so he took a deep breath, reaching down into his boxers, pulling out his hard length - hesitating just a moment, before running his palm up the shaft and bringing it back down again -hissing and biting his lip.

Jerome is peaked, panting by the time the boy has his clothes in a mere pile decorating the floor. He can’t resist the urge to undo himself, his eyes not leaving Bruce’s as he backs up to grab a seat in the desk chair, mouth popping open at the sight of the fresh hard on. He wants to get this boy into it, writhing, squirming, so out of his element. 

Jerome gets his own pants and boxers down at his ankles, his cock slapping up against his stomach, swollen, ready for his attention. He gives himself a fond stroke as he looks at Bruce, waving him over and patting his left thigh. “C'mhere to me. Now, Bruce.”

Bruce sat up on his elbows, looking the beautiful and fully aroused ginger sitting across from him, up and down, eyes averting to the rather large appendage standing at full attention in Jerome's lap.

The sheepish look on his face, had to be priceless and it was surely a miracle, Jerome wasn't cracking up at the sight of it.

He pulled himself up off the bed, doing what the older boy told him to - walking over to him and slowly sitting himself down on his lap. The warmth coming off the red head's thigh, sinking into the flesh of his bare bottom made Bruce shudder, and he snaked an arm around Jerome's neck, steadying himself.

Jerome sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from snorting, or tackling the youth down. A winded expression, almost as if Bruce was sure Jerome was going to devour him entirely. It’s amusing, to say the least. 

His walk is quick to Jerome, their skin melting together the moment it touches, electric. It was an odd ache that winds itself around Jerome, pushing, biting at his insides until he’s giving in and twisting a little, his cock rutting slowly against the other man’s. And he’s wondering, why was he bedding women when he could’ve had this feeling? Jerome rises to the challenge, growing excited, intrigued to experiment. He allows a little spit to dribble from his swollen lips to his palm, dragging it to a wrap around his dick, his fingers tapping out and stretching to reach the slit of Bruce’s erection. 

Jerome brushes his fingers through the silky thick white pre-cum at the head, pushing it around the tip of Bruce’s cock in circles. The wet sound with the lyrics fluttering from the record player have Jerome flushing, panting. He slithers into a demanding persona. Needy to get what he so desires.

“You’re so… beautiful, so grown up. And no one’s touched you like this. That right was mine. It’s always been mine, hasn’t it? To be the first. Say it.”

Bruce let out a shaky moan as the older boy's thumb swiped over his swollen head. His fingers curled tightly around the nape of Jerome's neck - the tingly sensation of his own pre-cum being spread over the tip of his cock making him jerk in the red head's lap, releasing another moan. 

The former Maniac was challenging him, pushing him to let go and come out of his shell, and it was working. Slowly but surely, the inexperienced teen was loosening up as he became more and more aroused - becoming braver, less timid, anxious to explore his new found sexuality.

He pressed his forehead to the side of Jerome's face, looking down at the older boy's wicked hand, giving him more pleasure than he'd ever given himself - feeling thankful, thankful that he'd been given this opportunity, to give himself to someone so fun and exciting, like Jerome - someone that would push him to work for it - to open up, and let go of his inhibitions, and he was indeed.

Bruce moved his eyes back up to meet with Jerome's, nodding his head. "Yes…yes, it was your right to be my first." He traced the outline of the red head's ridiculously sharp jaw line with his finger. "The first to touch me - the first to watch me touch myself - the first to be touched by me. "The teen wrapped his hand around the older boy's erection, and began to stroke his palm upward, running his thumb over the slit before bringing his grip back down again. He pressed his lips against Jerome's ear to whisper the next set of words - still pumping the swollen cock, enjoying the fleshy weight against his palm. "The first to penetrate me." 

Jerome is about to loose it as Bruce brings himself impossibly closer. He’s overwhelmed with the closeness, the sudden weight of warm fingers, foreign to him on his own erection. 

And then, oh then sweet Bruce Wayne is talking filthy to him. The word technical but outright. Jerome releases a pent up groan, realizing they’re both naked, flushed. He takes in the boy’s slightly muscular physique - all filled out. His eyes move down from the taunt nipples that he flicks in brief, to the trail of dark pubic hair. His hand rounds into a significant curl, giving Bruce’s ass a squeeze, raising him up for their cocks to brush together with Bruce’s ministrations. He wants…. more, something so much more. A taste. He pops away a little, eyeing Bruce with an intense stare, his gaze filtering briefly to Bruce’s hand stroking him to full hardness. 

“Will you let me… taste you, Bruce? Can I..” Jerome is hissing as his tongue curls around the words… The vulgarity of it all. “lay you down on your bed and lick your cock? Take it into my mouth? Please? I’ll be good for you. I’ll be so good for you, Bruce.”

The virgin teen groaned and shuddered when those filthy words left the older boy's plump, pretty lips, making his cock twitch again. Nobody had ever talked to him like that. Not in person and not through texting, not ever. He liked it. It made him feel naughty and alive in a way he never had before.

Just the thought made him feel so dirty…so raunchy…so good. He licked his own lips while staring down at the older boy's - so soft and full - God only knows what they're capable of, and that tongue…Bruce had already gotten a taste of what that pink, wet flesh could do to his mouth, but what could it do to his nether regions? Bruce felt himself shiver at the thought.

He nodded his head, with enthusiasm, and got up off the red head's lap, choosing to just stand next to the bed, waiting to be manhandled by the older boy.

Jerome watches the teen lift up and stand ; right at his mercy. It causes something in him to shift, snap. And he’s no longer as nervous, but ready. Ready to see what he can do, ready to make Bruce feel good. He lets out a small noise at seeing the boy stand there.

He lifts himself up, his hard on painfully demanding attention. But he just ignores it and instead reaches for the boy by his thigh, tugging him close enough for their dicks to brush tip to tip yet again. This causes Jerome to let out a breathy laugh, releasing them and dropping to his knees. He gives Bruce’s ass a slap forwards, his cock present in Jerome’s sights. He lets out a lengthy moan, his tongue lolling out to give the head an experimental taste. 

He’s quite surprised at how much he enjoys it. Wet, tangy, salty, Bruce. The first man he ever tasted. He grows bolder, drunk on owning the power, owning Bruce. He grips the base and guides the head past his lips, closing his mouth around the teen. He begins a steady sucking, not taking in inches yet, not sure of his limits and not wanting to be laughed at.

Bruce's eyes began to flutter as the warm, wetness flickered over the tip of his cock. He sucked in a breath and curled his toes - his mind swirling with too many thoughts at once.

Emotionally it felt a little awkward, having somebody so up close and personal - seeing him - tasting him. 

Physically it was like entering the gates of heaven, only to be met with saliva. As soon as the older boy took the swollen head into his mouth, the awkward feeling quickly faded, along with Bruce's inhibitions.

Suddenly that clean, and proper mouth of his was spewing all kinds of profanities, making a truck driver look like a saint.

His moans growing louder with every suckle of the red head's lips - his hands tugging on the red locks before him. He can't help but thrust his hips a little - soon realizing he was being pushy. It was just a reflex, and he hoped the older boy would take it as encouragement. Jerome was the last person he'd want to piss off.

 

Jerome is smirking, oh so spurred on when the mouth gates flood open from Bruce Wayne. Language that Jerome wasn’t even aware the boy knew, let alone would say. 

He has to hollow his cheeks when the considerable size is nudged down his throat with the thrust of Bruce’s hips. But Jerome could do this, he would do this. He shifts on his knees and reaches to give Bruce’s balls a roll in his hand, letting his finger brush front to back, front to back. Only then is he comfortable enough to start sliding Bruce until he hits the back of his throat. It’s not easy, not familiar to him, so Jerome has to fight the unknown panic and just focus on the boy’s pleasure above him. 

He puffs out his cheeks, the ache surfacing. His free hand slithers up Bruce’s chest to pinch and twist the taunt nipple, waiting for his praise, for some direction.

Bruce's head falls back - a loud gasp escapes his lips when he feels the warm wet tongue slosh around against his already tingling hardness - scrubbing every inch and every nerve, making every last one of them feel like they're lighting up - dancing. His knees shaking - his whole body tingling as that talented, hot mouth engulfes him, again and again.

 

He hisses and lets the older boy's name slip from his lips "Jerooome…" soft, long and drawn out. He can't help but pull his head back up to casually get a peek of Jerome working his knob - see the source those slurping sounds were coming from, and the sight his eyes are greeted with was almost too much.

Something about looking down to a beautiful red head with his mouth wrapped around your dick, slobbering and moaning - enjoying it. He knew he was not in control in this situation, no doubt Jerome was the boss, but seeing the former Maniac down on his knees in front of him - pleasing him, made him feel powerful…sexual.

Jerome gives another soft suck, pulling his mouth back and leaving dripping saliva down Bruce’s cock. Jerome lets out a pleased sound, licking the underside of the teen’s shaft, poking his tongue at that needy vein. 

Jerome finally removes his mouth with a draught out wet pop, eyeing his work on the teen. “Mhm. You taste good. Never thought one of these would feel so good in my mouth.”

Jerome looks up from between the teen’s legs, promptly slapping him on the ass, hard. “Get on bed, on your knees. Elbows on the bed too, Brucey. I’m gonna explore this pretty little ass of yours.”

 

Boy did Bruce love that sound - the sound of that gravely voice, giving him praise - telling him he's beautiful and how good he tastes. 

He places his hands on either side of the gorgeous ginger's face, and swipes his thumbs lovingly across Jerome's undereyes, brushing the tears that gathered from the older boy's watering eyes - watering from taking the teen's length all the way into his mouth - a talent, Bruce was certainly appreciative of.

The darker haired boy, then drops to his knees for a moment, placing a kiss on the older boy's swollen, red lips - a silent thank you, for the gift Jerome had just given him - the most pleasurable feeling, he'd ever felt……so far.

Bruce got back up, and did what he was told. He crawled onto his bed, balancing himself on his elbows - buttocks in the air - sighing and pressing his lips together tightly. He was nervous, not knowing exactly what to expect, but also anxious. So far, the older boy had brought him nothing but pleasure. It could possibly, only get better from here.

 

Jerome gives them both a moment, himself to breathe in through his nostrils. His throat feeling it, his tongue tainted with Wayne’s taste, his cock craving to be inside of the man. Jerome bends over with the painful hard on, retrieving the items from his coat, sliding over towards the sight that has him halting in his tracks.

Jerome is in awe at the boy at his mercy, obeying. Bent over and spread out for him. God, he can barely take this. Dropping the items onto the comforter, Jerome rises up behind the boy, peppering a line of kisses down his back, the perspiration slick skin blending into his mouth. He inhales sharply, taking one of Bruce’s hands and holding it up-palm first. Inching back Jerome grabs the bottle, popping it open and drizzle some into Bruce’s open hand. 

“Stroke yourself with this stuff, Bruce. Focus on that until I tell you not to, understand?”

The feel of the plump, warm lips trailing down his back, help calm Bruce's nerves. Moments earlier he'd noticed the bed shaking under his knees and realized it was his trembling, causing it.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling sharply - focusing on keeping relaxed. Tensing up would make this so much worse. He feels his body become limp, as he wills himself to relax. Steady breathing - resting the side of his face on the cold pillow beneath him. The cool breeze he feels, grazing over his spread open backside, is strangely soothing.

He bites his lip when he feels the warm liquid drip onto his palm. His erection has been neglected of any friction for only a few moments now, but the boy was painfully hard, so he wastes no time, reaching down, and rubbing his slicked up palm over his aching cock - shuddering at his own touch - the tingly warmth his stroking palm gives him makes him moan softly, not even caring anymore that the older boy is watching.

 

“Good boy, Bruce,” Jerome coos, slicking up a few digits. All of this so new to him it’s silly how dizzy he is with excitement, rather deliciously as if he was going on an adventure, or deep sea diving. Slaughtering the GCPD and half the city of Gotham. 

No, these things pale in comparison to the man spread out at his command. For him. Untouched until right now. Jerome eyes the slicked digit in the light, his other hand reaching down to push open Bruce’s cheeks, spreading him wide. 

Jerome has to resist the salivating urge to fuck him raw, forgetting the lubrication, all of it. But he resists, giving the hole an experimental circle, edging the tip of his index finger in, the muscles already protesting.

Bruce somehow remains relaxed. He doesn't even know why. He should be freaking out, but for some reason he's not. He's collected - his face soothed by the soft feather pillow underneath it - the calming sound of George Harrison's voice filling the room - the warmth of Jerome's palm spreading him open, and the slick warmth of his own palm, pumping his rock hard, throbbing cock, certainly wasn't hurting.

He pumped himself slowly, not wanting to make himself cum yet. His grip tight, his strokes slow and steady - swiping his thumb counter clockwise over the slit every time his fist reached the top.

He let's out a small gasp and presses his lips together again, when the older boy's finger slides into his virgin ass - never even been penetrated by his own finger - completely untouched.

It has a slight burn to it, but it was over before it started, and he takes a deep breath, and finds himself pleasantly surprised at how good it feels, and that was just the tip - the tip of that long finger…yes, Bruce had noticed those long digits belonging to the red head, and now he found himself wondering what the older boy could do with them.

 

Jerome growls out rather harshly, thirsting for a vocal response from the man. So he adds yet another finger to stretch the boy open, scissoring his fingers past the ring of muscle, groaning at the delicious heat. 

“How’s this feel, Bruce?”

Bruce chokes out a moan, when the second finger breaches his entrance - stretching him. A bittersweet burn, that after a few seconds, quickly turns to just sweet.

He bites his bottom lip, letting out a long hiss, followed by a loud and sensual, almost feminine sounding moan.

He answers the older boy, sounding breathless. "Good….really good." He lets out another soft moan and nudges himself backward, making Jerome's fingers slide in a bit further.

 

“Do you want more? Mhm, of course you do, Brucey.”

Jerome recognizes the giving muscles as a welcoming sign of pleasure. He just hopes the boy can hold on long enough to let him… just. He slicks another digit, his fingers wet from the ones before, a three wide set, pushing them out, open. He feels the resistance when he suddenly thrusts them deeper, getting it over with for them both. And his instincts have him reaching a free hand around to brush at the leaking slit of Bruce’s erection. 

 

Bruce groans a little too loudly when that third finger thrusts inside him. It wasn't excruciating, only less pleasant than two fingers, but he knew it was necessary. It would make the initial penetration with Jerome's much larger appendage, much more bearable.

Despite his fear of the unknown, Bruce was growing anxious to get on with it. Funny how that works…the first finger enters and at first it feels uncomfortable and intrusive and moments later he's loving it, and suddenly it's not enough and he wants more, and so on. Now they're on finger three, which at first was very uncomfortable and now that's not enough either…. Now he wants the whole nine yards, so to speak.

"Do you want to now? How do you want us, Brucey?”

He takes a moment to ponder the older boy's question. He starts to realize, maybe he should've done his homework. Then again he would not want to see the look on Alfred's face if he ever saw his browser history: which position is the least painful for first time anal….yeah, that would go badly.

Bruce wasn't sure, he wanted the older boy studying his face the entire time he was giving him the high hard one, so missionary was a no. He thought that doggy style, might be tempting for Jerome to get too rough. It's just so easy for the red head to grab him by the hips and pound him to oblivion.

He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with the boy that was working his ass so nicely - a wet squishy sound making his ears prickle as those long digits, opened him up even more.

"Yes…i'm ready. Um…side by side?" As if there was a wrong answer. Bruce was unsure. He really had no clue what he was doing, but that seemed like it would be the most comfortable.

Jerome gives a curt nod, though enjoying this, he is more than ready to replace his fingers with his dick. He slides his fingers from the man with a rude squelch, his lips giving way to a devilish smirk. 

He nudges the boy up the bed onto the right, easing him over onto his side. Now Jerome knows all about technical aspects, safety, but he doesn’t give a damn. Neither of them had had anyone else. This claiming though has Jerome thumbing the pre-cum across his own head, spreading it down his shaft. He reaches out to snatch up the lube, covering his long length in the gel. But somehow, during the languid prep, he can’t help the words tumbling past his lips. 

“Mhm, Bruce. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

He taps a free hand against the side of the teen’s hip, his fingers digging in to raise Bruce’s leg, opening him up as he tosses to the limb over top the side of his own hip. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck you, Bruce. How much you want me to take your virginity. Fuck you until you’re crying to cum, until you need my fingers around your sweet cock.”

Jerome lays open mouthed kisses along the shoulder, to spine of the man.

“Whenever you bed someone else, another woman. I want you to remember that when you’re inside her, I’m inside you. You’re mine now. You’ve always been meant to be mine. But it wasn’t until now that we were supposed to be together, that it was supposed to…” Jerome hisses in a raspy whisper, pausing to kiss at Bruce’s shoulder. “happen this way. And I’m about to fuck you, so that you’ll never forget me. My name will be on your tongue every time you stroke yourself off, every time you’re moving inside another woman, or another man is taking you. It’s me you’ll cum to. And you won’t think twice about the others, will you?”

Jerome reaches up a hand and tugs the boy back roughly by his chin, his lips open and breath winded, hot air clouding over Bruce’s mouth from Jerome’s panting. He noses the teen, holding onto his chin, eyes wide and sparkling, heart hammering rapidly. He likes himself up, watching Bruce’s eyes, not letting go of his chin, and he pushes the head of his cock into that oh so delicious tight heat-mouth dropping open in an O over Bruce’s lips.

The older boy's dirty talk was working. Bruce was now panting with arousal. He was not happy about the empty feeling he was left with when Jerome withdrew his fingers, and he was anxious to get it back. He needed it - he craved it - to be full - stretched - conquered.

The heat radiating off of the red head's body, pressing against his backside, arouses him further, and that deep gruff voice whispering obscenities into his ear - the older boy's hot breath tickling him, egging him on, making his head feel like it will explode if he doesn't cum soon.

When Jerome grabs him, jerking his head back by his chin - the warm, wet fingers curling around his jaw line tightly - growling into his ear - that hard tip pressing against his entrance, teasing him….that's when something inside him snaps - a filthy side, he didn't realize he had, rears its head, and the next thing he knows, he's saying things, he never thought he'd say.

A panted "yes", falls from his lips followed shortly by " oh, fuck me, please. Oh god, fuck me. I want it, I want you inside me…" He takes a moment to catch his breath - panting heavily - the older boy's fingers still wrapped tightly around his face. "Jerome, please." He begs - squirming around as much as he can with Jerome's body pressed so tightly against his. "Gaah!" He growls, grinding his backside against the older boy's groin.

So… good for me, Brucey. So, so good,” Jerome laps out, biting into Bruce’s shoulder, pinching the skin up between his teeth until it reddened. That’s gonna bruise, Jerome knows. Bruises on Bruce. His Bruce. 

At the yet again admission, Jerome has to fight the urge to push inside Bruce. He wasn’t being gentle for the sake of it, no. He was making sure that Bruce is going to feel all of this, inch by inch, the pain only a bonus. 

Jerome slides in past the ring of muscle that protested at first, but gave a little way to the prep beforehand, the lube slickening Jerome’s cock. He lets out a small whimper, whispering against Bruce’s ear. 

“Does this hurt yet, Brucey?”

Bruce hisses when the red head's large teeth bite into his flesh. It hurts so good - a stinging pain mixed with this heated wave of euphoria, lit up his senses - the wet saliva, soothing the sting away shortly after the teeth retract, and those plump lips graze over the red throbbing mark, left behind.

He squeezes Jerome's hand as the large, swollen tip breaches him further, pushing past his entrance, stretching him wider than the three fingers had been able to. 

Despite the thorough prep he'd been given, the new intrusion was still quite painful. Bruce groaned and tried his best to lie still - keeping his breath steady, his body relaxed.

He thought if he told Jerome it hurt, he'd stay still - hold back - not push any further in for a while, and Bruce knew the worst part would be the initial entrance - the first prick, and he just wanted to get it over with - rip the bandaid off if you will, so he lied.

"No." He groaned sharply, clenching his teeth.

Jerome presses open mouthed kisses to the boy’s neck, knowing the poker face was slipping on the other side, even through the tone. He stretches the teen out harder, thrusting up another two inches and letting out a cry into Bruce’s neck, unable to resist.

“If only you were feeling what I’m feeling… Oh, Brucey. So tight. So fucking warm.”

The full, soft lips trailing down his neck are so comforting - making Bruce feel less tense - at ease, despite his virgin ass being impaled by the big prick of a notorious and dangerous man - a man that could kill you soon as look at you.

Mmm, the thought was a turn on..that he, Bruce Wayne could peak the interest of someone like Jerome - an apathetic man that appeared to have no conscience - no soul. He could probably slit the younger boy's throat and leave him for Alfred to find, without batting an eyelash.

Bruce couldn't explain why he wasn't afraid…he just wasn't. It was as simple as that. He loved how the older boy manhandled him. He was so accustomed to being fawned over like he was some broken and troubled, little thing.

Jerome didn't cut him any slack. He kept him on his toes, made him more assertive, brought him out of his shell. It felt good…good to be bad. Being fucked by Gotham's most hated criminal was the ultimate act of rebellion. 

When the older boy pushed in further, Bruce winced and tried desperately not to tense up, but it proved difficult - an initial reaction to the painful intrusion.

It wasn't an aching pain, like you would think it would be, but a burning….like receiving an enema with dishwashing liquid.

Bruce squeezed the pillow in front of him, tightly - his knuckles going pale - his breaths growing faster, making his chest heave. He knew that the pain would not last long. If he could just bear it for a minute or so longer, he'd be fine. Hearing Jerome's gravely voice, singing his praises was also helping - knowing he was providing the older boy with pleasure - hearing him moan in his ear….soon getting him off.

Jerome gives up on the torture, too much, and thrusts himself half inside Bruce, before he rears his hips back a little, shifting, not pulling out. The muscles in Bruce squeeze Jerome’s cock to the point where his eyes nearly roll back. Surging forward the rest of the way Jerome finally bottoms out, a loud moan leaving his lips. “Fuck. Bruce, you’re so… Tight.” 

Jerome hangs onto Bruce, his arms laced tightly around the younger man now, still, sheathed deep inside of him - balls deep.

 

A shaky whimper escapes Bruce's lips when the older boy's rather large cock, pushes its way all the way inside of him - sliding up his tight inner walls, making his whole body tremble. Even through the burning, stretching pain, Bruce felt this slight twinge of pleasure when the rock hard flesh, brushed over his prostate, on its way up his canal. A tingly warm sensation that caused him to twitch quickly and made him gasp - his toes curling into the sheets below him.

It was comforting to get a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak - to know, that he would indeed, get some pleasure from this. He took a deep breath and relaxed himself - uncurling his toes, willing every muscle limp, except his left arm. That, he tossed over his shoulder, reaching it over the back of Jerome's head - first stroking the soft red locks, before intertwining his fingers, tugging tightly, letting the older boy know it was time to have at it.

Jerome just grins and boasts - proud the youth is accepting him and his… appendage so quickly. He barks out a laugh, tilting Bruce’s head back for a kiss, his hips sliding out and pushing back at a languid pace. 

“Oh, Brucey, you’re so fucking tight. Milking my cock for me. You know how to take care of me, don’t you?”

Bruce nods his head, panting and hissing - a light chuckle escapes his lips, before he gives them a lick - still able to taste a hint of mint from the older boy's lips. 

Slowly but surely, he feels the pain lessen - slightly fading - the delightful tingle becoming more noticeable. He knows he's only moments away from mind numbing pleasure, so he moans approvingly, and returns the red head's dirty talk.

"Oh Jerome…." He gasps out, chest heaving. You're so fucking big - stretching me - filling me up with that amazing cock…gaah! You feel so good inside me, fuck me." He fidgets, swiveling his hips, becoming more brave as the pain fades even more - almost non existent now.

 

The dirty talk is fueling Jerome on, ready to set the pace. He lets out a groaning sound, his hips edging back until he’s propelling himself forward, his cock brushing over that spot in Bruce that makes his muscles cradle Jerome’s cock with a tight squeeze. 

“Feel so good, Brucey,” Jerome rasps, his hand reaching around to run his long fingers back and forth over Bruce’s erection. 

Bruce can't get enough of that gruff voice saying his name. Every moan, dirty whisper, or groan, heightens the teen's arousal. 

He shudders when the older boy thrusts into him again - hitting that sweet spot, that makes his entire lower half tingle.

When Jerome wraps that wicked hand around his throbbing cock, his head is swimming - a tingle forming in his cheeks, making its way up, and settling at the top of his head. 

Bruce gets antsy and nudges his ass backwards, impaling himself further on that rock hard appendage attached to the gorgeous red head behind him.

Jerome is impressed with the man taking it so well that it fuels him to thrust back. He bumps his hips forward in a rough roll - feeling Bruce clench around him. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, this, this rush. 

He starts to pump his hips back and forth, back and forth, circulating them at a different angle - at a different speed. And that’s when he hears the noise, mid thrust….

He sees red, white clouding his ears in static strikes. “Who is that!?” He barks roughly into the young man’s ear, pebbling a finger at the latched bedroom door where the female voice was calling out ‘Master Bruce’ over and over.

"Oh shit, that's my maid. I have no clue what she'd want at this hour. Fuck…." Bruce realized he couldn't even pretend to be asleep. The blaring music, ruins that plan. "I'll get rid of her."

 

Jerome simply snarls at the thought. How dare she interrupt this? Does she not know who he is? What they’re doing? The thought is preposterous to Jerome. He holds tightly to Bruce, dipping his hips to hit that delicious spot inside that has the boy a quivering mess each stroke of it.

“No, no. You answer her. Tell her exactly what’s going on. Repeat after me, Brucey. You say…” Jerome thrusts his hips with a prompt snapping growl out. “I can’t. I’ve got his cock inside of me, you old bitch. And then you tell her, you tell her who is fucking you and how good I’m fucking you, Bruce.”

Bruce laughs when Jerome tells him what to say. He can just imagine the look on her face if he were to say that.

He lets the older boy continue to fuck him, despite the maid, who he's known his entire life, is standing right outside the door, probably with her ear pressed against it. It feels so good, the pain is gone, and now he's only left with this satisfyingly full and tingly feeling in his rear, and he can't bring himself to tell him to stop.

He continues moaning, not even concerned with who hears at this point. He's so close - he'll bust any moment. He doesn't know why - maybe it's his overwhelming arousal, but he says what the older boy tells him to.

"Um…I'm a little busy!" He shouts out toward the door, having a hard time keeping a straight face, and a loud moan escapes his lips once more, as Jerome continues with those quick snaps of his hips, bringing him closer with every thrust. "I've got a cock inside me…" Bruce can't contain himself. He starts giggling uncontrollably. "You old bitch. Jerome Valeska's cock. He's fucking me right now, and oh so good. I fucking love it." With that last sentence, Jerome hits his sweet spot one more time and sends him right over the edge. 

Bruce dissolves with pleasure as his cock spasms and pushes forth something akin to the most pleasurable piss ever taken, and spills out all over the same comforter he'd been clinging to during that entire blissful pounding.

Jerome listens as Bruce repeats those oh so sweet words, the filth tanged on his perfect mouth. Jerome tilts his chin to capture it into a kiss when the woman shrieks and starts hammering her knuckles against the door, screaming for Alfred. 

Jerome is spurred on when he sees the youth release over his shoulder, his ass milking Jerome’s cock so tightly his head spins and causes him to hammer into the boy in pounds, his chest puffing with the strangled breaths. He’s moving as the woman rushes, biting into Bruce’s neck so hard he feels the skin break and copper pool into his mouth as his cock twitches like never before, his release spiraling out of him and filling Bruce up. 

They don’t have long. He eases out of the boy, cock tinged with pink and white. He leaves the evidence on the sheets, inside the not so innocent, de-virginized Bruce Wayne, and lays a kiss to his mouth, peppering a ghostly whisper when he pulls away.

“Don’t forget me. Remember this. Remember how sore you are and why.” Jerome climbs into his clothing, scooting towards the door, he looks back at Bruce through the biting cold Gotham night air of the now open window. 

“I’ll see you soon, Bruce Wayne. Until we meet again.”

Bruce barely notices his maid's screaming when his lips are once again, taken by the older boy's - so soft and supple, that tasty tongue practically washing over his, has him forgetting she was even there at all.

He lets out a long hiss when those big pearly whites, delve into his flesh once more - this time breaking the skin - drawing blood. He feels a deep sting and the blood trickles down the back of his neck.

Before he can even fully process the bleeding wound, he hears Jerome's breathing change, and the next thing he feels is, the older boy's cock constrict inside of him, followed by warm liquid, trailing up his rectum, and sliding back down his inner walls.

He couldn't imagine anything hotter - hotter than the beautiful red head's essence….his spirit if you will, filling him up to the brim - claiming him - becoming a part of him.

The feeling is short lived when the older boy pulls out of him. He immediately feels the loss, missing the fullness.

Bruce watches Jerome throwing his clothes back on, and realizes he better throw his own boxers on, as he hears the woman banging on Alfred's door. He slips back into them, before being taken into one last kiss by the other boy, and before he had time to catch his breath, the red head was gone - out the window disappearing into the night.

He runs over to the window, closing it quickly and locking it up, and just in time. As soon as he turns around, he hears a pounding noise, when his door flings open - courtesy of his older guardian's foot and sees Alfred and the maid standing in his doorway, looking at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Bruce! What in the bloody hell was going on in here? What's this about Jerome Valeska being in here with you?" Alfred couldn't bring himself to repeat what the maid had told him.

"Jerome? Um, I don't know where you heard that. Isn't he dead?" The boy gives them both a very authentic confused look.

Alfred looks over at the maid, giving her a what the fuck look. She shrugs her shoulders before opening her mouth to defend herself.

"That's what he said!" She cried, pointing to Bruce. "He…he said…and he called me an old bitch!"

Bruce can barely contain himself. He thought he might fall to the floor in hysterics right there. It takes everything inside of him not to die laughing - his poker face, really testing its strength.

"I have no clue what she's talking about. I was in here alone, and I would never call her, or any other lady that word."

Alfred looks at the woman, who looks like she's deep in thought, possibly second guessing herself. Maybe she really was hearing things.

"Alright, it's late. We'll talk about it in the morning. It's Christmas. Let's call it a night aye?" Alfred nods his head, and shuffles the maid out of Bruce's room. "Goodnight." 

As soon as the door closes behind them, Bruce falls back on his bed, covering his mouth with his hand to avoid his incontrollable laughter.

That was a close one. He slips his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling - the older boy's last words to him replaying in his head….forget…yeah right. Jerome Valeska left quite the impression…not only emotionally but physically. Bruce knew he'd be feeling the after effects of this little tryst in the morning. Chances are, Jerome Valeska, will be on his mind, the rest of the night, haunting his dreams, all day tomorrow, and who knows how long after that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty enough for ya? Lol. Possibly go be continued :)

**Author's Note:**

> When we first started writing this, it was intended to be a one shot, but it ended up being too good to not continue. We've got one more chapter coming, so stay tuned, ficcers ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Red On The Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881695) by [cole1903](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cole1903/pseuds/cole1903)




End file.
